


Winter Fireworks

by Robin_Mask



Category: Bleach
Genre: Acts of Kindness, Birthday, Bonding, Fluff, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-05
Updated: 2012-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 01:38:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3469619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_Mask/pseuds/Robin_Mask
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite everything there would always be the winter fireworks . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Fireworks

# Winter Fireworks

****

December . . .

 

It was just another month, surely? It was just another month, another day, another hour . . . the same monotony of work and chores, the same faces passing by his windows and walking into his life, the same arguments with his colleagues and the same praise from his superiors . . . it was just another month. It was just another day. It was nothing more than the culmination of weeks of cold snow and wet rain, followed by the death of all those beauteous gifts of nature . . . golden leaves trod into mush beneath his feet, pure ice trampled into slush. It was a stupid month . . . 

 

Oh, but there was such nostalgia that came with it. He remembered the holidays that they celebrated in the world of the living, how everyone seemed so full of hope and life, and how even in the Seireitei they would celebrate the New Year, and with it how they would be filled with a sense of potential and possibility. The month marked the end of previous year, it marked the start of something new and something with infinite possibility, and it marked the descent of winter into the throes of the reborn spring, it was a month of death and yet . . . it was more than that. It was his birthday. It was the month that marked the date of his birth, the date he was supposed to celebrate his coming into the world, and yet it felt rather tainted . . . it felt as if he was a part of that death and destruction that the winter brought. He felt _cursed_.

 

Okay, perhaps it wasn’t as bad as Rangiku, he knew that his lieutenant would forever spend her birthdays mourning the loss of her closest friend who had shared that same special date with her, always missing the absent part of her soul instead of fully celebrating her own existence, but he still couldn’t help but resent that day of his nonetheless. He couldn’t help but remember Momo and Aizen, how they would all sit together in the snow and watch the fireworks, and how – for one brief moment – he no longer felt alone. He had felt as if he had _belonged_!

 

It had been almost perfect. He could almost feel the soft touch of Momo sitting beside him, teasing him mercilessly about his name and joking with him as if their difference in rank had no meaning whatsoever, and he could hear Aizen’s comforting words ringing in his ear at the memory. He had found great comfort in knowing that his birthday was a kind of a gift, something to be shared with his family and friends, that it was a blessing in itself to even know his date of birth, to be told it and to trust in it the way that so many people could only dream of having. Now that Momo was . . . _incapacitated . . ._ and thatAizen was . . . _missing_ in action . . . he just felt alone, as if there wasn’t anything worth celebrating. Even if he wanted to celebrate, how could he when the war had taken so much from everyone?

 

It was just so depressing . . .

 

“Captain! I’m so glad I’ve found you!”

 

Toshiro forced back a smile as he closed his eyes.

 

He could feel the cool breeze brushing against his skin rather lightly, the touch soft like a warm embrace, something so fleeting that he almost missed it when it had gone, and as he allowed the wind to transpose his soul to someplace else he heard the sounds his lieutenant made as she came towards him. That familiar sound of rustling fabric, the rustle of her long locks, and – through it all – that soft and floral perfume she so adored that radiated from her body as she stepped ever closer.

 

“Ah, it looks like I made it in time, Captain!”

 

“I suppose so.”

 

It was hard to ignore the way that Rangiku leant over him, least of all because of the feeling of her large cleavage that pressed a little too firmly against his head for comfort. Rangiku was a larger than life personality, and as she peered over his head – across the rooftops and across the Seireitei – she giggled and laughed and made soft and silly comments that actually brought a serene smile across the young captain’s face. No matter what happened . . . she never forgot him. Never! He would never admit it to her, but whenever she was near he no longer felt so alone. It was wrong for superiors to fraternise with their subordinates, but at the same time – at some point – Rangiku had become a friend to him . . .

 

She had saved his grandmother’s life and given him a job as a soul reaper, she had fought by his side and protected him from harm, and – even when she neglected her duties – she always sought to cheer Toshiro up and make him feel loved. She’d read him his horoscopes, brought him sweets, and even showed to him her rare serious and empathetic side. She was his friend.

 

“Oh, look over there! They’re so beautiful tonight, aren’t they?”

 

Toshiro opened his eyes and looked up towards the fireworks. They really were beautiful this year, like the small buds of spring flowers that opened up into open bloom before his very eyes. The colours were so radiant and vibrant, such varied shades and combinations that they dazzled the eye, like an _aurora borealis_ , and inside them he could see the pink of Rangiku’s scarf and the black of Aizen’s glasses and the green of Momo’s hair accessories. So beautiful and so real, they were rather inspiring and reminded him of the way that the light reflected through the ice sculptures he sometimes made. No wonder Rangiku always wanted to watch the fireworks with him, it sort of brought his birthday to life, a tradition even Aizen couldn’t take away.

 

“They are,” Toshiro said with a soft smile.

 

He stepped away from his lieutenant and looked up at her warmly. Her eyes were so serene and sincere, and yet there was a hint of pain deep within them, almost as if she were wearing a mask . . . he had the somewhat depressing feeling that should she stop smiling then she may be lost in her sorrows. He blamed Gin so much for that, but at the same time it was hard to feel sad when he had so much to be grateful for.

 

“Thank you, Rangiku . . . for being here.”

 

“Anytime, Captain! I wouldn’t miss this for the world!”

 

“Thanks, that means a lot,” Toshiro said sincerely. “Besides, with all the paperwork done I suppose we have more than enough time to just relax and enjoy the fireworks. Isn’t that right, Rangiku?”

 

The young captain turned away from his subordinate to watch out over the landscape. It was nice to watch the fireworks with someone whom he could trust and someone whose company he enjoyed, and it was nice not to have to worry about wars and battles, struggles and betrayals . . . it was nice just to _be_ in the moment, just to feel loved and to love in return. He felt as if perhaps today wasn’t as cursed as it seemed after all, as if it had some deep and redeeming factor . . .

 

It was simply unfortunate that as he turned back to Rangiku – a bright smile upon his face – that he noticed the absence of his lieutenant. He looked around rapidly and saw the older women flash-stepping across the rooftops, gradually getting further and further away as his own temper began to grow and grow . . .

 

“Rangiku!”

 

“Sorry, Captain! I’ll get right on the paperwork, I promise! Consider it a birthday treat!”

 

“Damn it, Rangiku!”

 

He could feel his cheeks flush in frustration as his rather _air-headed_ assistant went about the duties that she _should_ have attended to far earlier than she did, and although he felt rather annoyed – okay, _furious_ – at her complete ineptitude and uselessness, he also felt a strong sense of nostalgia and gratitude. He appreciated that she could actually take time out of her schedule just to be with him, he appreciated that despite the horrors of the war that she could give him back that little slice of normalcy, and most of all he just appreciated Rangiku for just being herself. Of course, he wouldn’t reward her behaviour by telling her how special she was, but all that mattered was that she _was_ special, and she meant the world to Toshiro.

 

Rangiku really was one of a kind, and he just knew – he _knew_ – that no matter what she said that the paperwork would be waiting for him once he got back to the office. There would be piles of it, just _waiting_ for him behind the sofa, and it would be up to him to sit and force Rangiku to do it or up to him to do it all himself, and even though he knew he should have been depressed to work on his birthday . . . it was a rather welcome distraction after everything. Rangiku . . . she really was one of a kind. 

 

“Happy Birthday indeed,” he said to himself.

 

He shook his head with a warm smile and then slowly followed his lieutenant’s footsteps back to the office, feeling a strong sense of nostalgia and acceptance from Rangiku’s presence and from her actions. Today would be a date to remember . . .

 

Thanks to the winter fireworks and thanks to Rangiku.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
